4:03 AM
by EmilytheSlayer
Summary: "4:03 AM marked the 93rd day since the fall of good old Sunnyhell and the broken mind of the fallen hero Buffy Summers". While safe in London, Faith goes for a smoke outside and gets lost in her thoughts when she receives some unexpected company. Post Chosen. Oneshot.


The air was cold and the night sky was dim. Black. No stars shone tonight. There was a cloudy haze that swept over London. Every building hid in the dense fog. Cobblestones laced the sidewalks as drunken civilians stumbled along with their friends or alone cradling a half empty bottle of bourbon. Only when the lights flickered off in every home and the club lights flashed on and off did London shine. The night proved to be a time for the ones awake and restless to explore and unveil the masks they wore.

Faith took a long drag from her cigarette and let the smoke wash over her when she exhaled. She leaned against the balcony of the flat she now shared with Buffy. She had to admit, it was nice. Sure, it was a bit of a mess, clothes lay all over the place, empty bottles of vodka littered some areas, but Dawn did a good job of cleaning up every now and then. Dawn had left to live with her boyfriend somewhere else in London, Faith couldn't remember where. But Dawn stopped by every now and then to check up on her sister. She joked that this was a great way for Faith to get it on with Buffy but she quickly ran out when Faith gave her a murderous look.

It was 4:03 AM and that marked the beginning of a new day. It was a new day to walk the streets of London and rummage around the little shops and cafes and forget about what happened three months ago. 4:03 AM marked the 93rd day since the fall of good old Sunnyhell and the broken mind of the fallen hero Buffy Summers.

That's what itched at Faith. What crawled across her skin and made every bump in her body rise and hair stick up straight like a never-ending chill.

Buffy Freaking Summers.

That name, seeing her face grow more pale and hollow as the days went by, haunted Faith. She didn't want Buffy to be like this but there was no way to help her. She had fallen off the deep end. She wasn't mad, no. Not yet, at least. She was just… sad. Empty. Silent. She was a walking skeleton. A ghost trapped, a broken piece of glass trying so desperately to hold her pieces together. She was heartbreaking to the eye, the manifestation of sorrow.

It happened slowly. Faith should've watched more closely. She should've noticed the first sign. But she knew that Buffy was defeat, just like everyone else on the bus that day. They were all in mourning for their homes, their families, and their friends that were lost in the rubble or somewhere out in the world without an exchange of goodbyes. It was easy to get lost in your thoughts and take no notice of your surroundings. That was what happened to Buffy. She'd become so lost, wandered off the thought path, stuck in the dark. The emptiness that glazed over her eyes reminded Faith of the lost souls she saw late at night along the streets during the many times she'd come back from the bar, drunk and high with the exhilaration of being alive.

She should've noticed when Buffy stopped taking care of herself. She should've paid attention to the shake of head when offered food, the desperate nod when offered a shot and the bruised circles under her eyes from restless nights. But when Faith spent almost every waking hour with her and the remainder of the Scooby gang, it was easy to miss when having to lookout for the rest of London from night creatures and upcoming apocalypses. She closed her eyes and took another long drag, breathing in the scent of tobacco as the chilled air swept over her.

She was exhausted. Every waking hour was filled with anxiety. She was terrified that one day, a new day would mark the anniversary of Buffy's death. She was terrified that one day, Buffy would've fallen so far off, that she took her own life along with her sanity. And what terrified Faith even more was that if that happened, she might end up like Buffy and fall off the deep end, down the same dark path.

"Mind if I join?"

Faith almost didn't register the quiet voice. It took her by surprise when she realized whom it was. She spun around and restrained from gasping aloud as she took in their appearance.

Buffy was out of bed, for one thing. She wore a plain white tank that hung loosely from her thin frame and covered her nonexistent butt. Her skin was paler than ever in the night, the dark circles under her eyes stood out. Her face looked sunken, her eyes too big for her gaunt face. Her hair was long and messy, unkempt. Faith could see the prominent chest bones and collarbones underneath the skin and the outline of Buffy's ribs from her top that she could almost see through. A second thought occurred to Faith that made her wonder if Buffy had put it on purposefully. She shook it off and allowed a smile to spread across her face. Although Buffy's appearance was still concerning, Faith couldn't help but feel a small tinge of happiness that Buffy was outside. And talking.

Faith nodded and gestured next to her, shifting slightly to her right to make some room.

"Go ahead."

Buffy took small hesitant steps forward and leaned her body against the railing. She closed her eyes and took a big breath of air. A cool wind entered her lungs that turned her insides to ice. It was refreshing. She felt alive, for once. When she opened her eyes, she turned to face Faith and forced a smile for reassurance.

"What are you doing up?"

"I'd ask the same."

Buffy sighed. Faith lit another cigarette as the silence continued. She offered the other slayer one but instead received a shake of the head.

"Not your thing, I guess."

"I don't smoke," Buffy stated flatly.

"Ah."

More silence.

Down below, a group of about ten people stumbled out of a bar, their voices shouted through the night, loud laughs escaped their mouths, some howled. The noises stung at Buffy's eardrums. She closed her eyes, shifted her body away from Faith, and swallowed deeply, trying to focus on the quietness that she felt minutes before. It was hard for her. The crowd of people grew apart as some went their own ways and the noise died down. She felt a wave of relief wash over her and she drowned in it.

Faith turned away, sucking in her cigarette, the motion was automatic, had been performed more times than she could count. She exhaled a waft of smoke and let out a snicker at the two strangers that stayed behind and continued to stumble along. When they finally disappeared, Faith was relieved for the silence.

"I couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts." She finally answered the question.

Buffy reopened her eyes and turned around, wrapped her arms around herself as if suddenly cold.

"Me too."

Faith turned around this time and looked at Buffy up close. Yes, she looked sick and not in the best condition. But she was still so beautiful. She looked like she was shielding herself from the wind, or the rest of the world. It was hard to tell.

"How you feeling, B?"

The annoyed sigh and roll of the eyes was not the response Faith had expected.

"Just dandy, _F_."

Faith lifted her hands in defense and leaned against the rail, brows furrowed as she studied the blonde who looked about ready to explode. She was shaking.

"I swear to god, if _someone_ else asks me that question," Buffy let out a huff and ran her hands through her hair, head in her elbows as she breathed in and out to calm the pounding of her heart.

"I'm just sick and tired of it. I want people to leave me alone."

"Then why are you out here with me?"

Buffy looked up quickly, she forgot there was someone else there with her.

"What?"

It was Faith's turn to roll her eyes. She pushed herself off of the ledge and walked over to the fragile slayer that looked just about ready to break any minute.

"If you want to be alone then go back inside. I was happy here outside with a cigarette and my thoughts as entertainment."

Buffy's mouth hung open, her lips wavered in the air. She looked like a fish caught out of water. Her eyes had lost touch of reality for a moment when a hand on her shoulder pulled her back to the real world. She looked up into the brown eyes that stared worriedly into hers.

"I-I…" she barely managed to form words. She didn't know what was happening. The pressure was overwhelming. She tried to swallow it down. She heard the second letter of the alphabet be repeated back at her, over and over again. The tune appeared in her mind. _Now I know my A B C's. Next time won't you sing with me?_

"B?"

There it was again. The song was stuck on repeat. It was a constant loop.

"Buffy?"

"I don't want to be alone." The words finally came out in a quiet whisper.

Faith's heart dropped. She stared at the broken face in front of her. Then without even realize what she was doing, she pulled the blonde into her arms, kissing the top of her forehead. She was worried for a second that Buffy was going to freak out, that she was going to withdraw into herself and go back inside. But she remained stuck, sheltered in the warmth of Faith's arms.

Buffy was too tired to care. In fact, she cherished the kiss. She embraced the warmth she was feeling right then and there. In that moment, _that_ was when she felt alive. And it was exhilarating. It was amazing.

"You aren't alone, B. I'm right here," the comforting tone of her own voice was almost alien to Faith but it didn't matter.

"I'll always be here," she added.

And that was the truth. It was what Buffy needed in that moment and maybe what Faith herself needed. With the broken slayer in her arms, Faith felt it was now her responsibility to hold Buffy together. The rise and fall of Faith's chest brought comfort to Buffy and she closed her eyes. The cool air blew over them and Faith looked up at the night sky once more. She saw the lower part of the sky begin to turn yellow and Faith knew that a new day was coming. Today didn't mark the anniversary of Buffy's death, or a new day to worry about her mental health. Today marked a new beginning. There would be no death. Today marked the first day of healing, for the both of them.


End file.
